Take Me or Break Me
by pezzberry
Summary: Her body curls around mine. She smells like fire and spice and hot smoky roses mixed with blueberry vodka. Her hands pin me to the bed. Her eyes are deep, and so dark that I can't see where her pupils end and her- whatever the fuck you call the part that isn't the pupil- begins. Suddenly they're all I can see. And then her lips meet mine.
1. Don't Hesitate

"Rachel" I poke my head around the door. The room's empty.

"I'm in here." sounds from her bedroom. I cross the landing and walk into her room.

"Why are you in here?" Rachel glances round and grins conspiratorially at me, like she knows something I don't, or she's one of those kids at the candy store that can buy whatever they want.

"Rachel" she says pointing to herself "... has got a secret alcohol stash" then she giggles as though it's the naughtiest thing she could've done - but then again it probably is.

Fifteen minutes later and we're in her bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the wooden floorboards and surrounded by half empty bottles of vodka and shot glasses with lipstick stains around the rim. Rachel pours more shots, passes one to me and takes one for herself.

"Down it on uh... three.. one, two, THREEEEE!" I top my head back, throwing the vodka down my throat and feeling it burn slightly in the back of my mouth. I run the back of my hand across my lips, laughing.

"Tomorrow we're going to be more hungover than the time we took Kurt out after his break up and this is all your fault." I giggled then _Since when does Santana Lopez Giggle?_

"It's the weekend, we can stay in bed all day!" Something in a sober corner of my alcohol induced mind whirred at her slurred words.

_The weekend. Fuck._

Justin said he wanted me back at work by the weekend. Suddenly I began to feel scared and a little sick. My skin began to burn. He'll kill me. Jesus, he'll kill me if I don't show up tomorrow. My head spins, but I take another shot, feeling the alcohol numb my mind and loosen my inhibitions. Tomorrow I can worry about the future, but tonight I want to forget.

"Truuuuthh or daaaaare!" Rachel exclaims like a 14 year old school girl at her first party. If she was drunk before, right now she's out of her mind. We clink shot glasses together before downing them. The liquid slops over the edge of the glass, creating a wobbly blue line down her arm, like a river on a map. She bends her head and licks it, her tongue moving carefully along her skin. I watch her shamelessly, imagining her tongue on _my_ skin. "Truth or dare Santana?" she slurs, cocking her head to one side and looking at me slightly shakily.

"Truth" I say quickly. I can imagine that a drunk Rachel can think up some pretty evil dares when she wants to. Not that she's looking that innocent at the moment either. She narrows her eyes, then gently runs her tongue around her lips, so gently that it barely touched them. She has another shot, then finally grins.

"How many people have you had sex with?" she rests her elbows on the floor, and her head in her hands and patiently waits for my answer.

"Rachel, I am not telling you that."

"You have to answer, or there'll... or there'll be a forfiiiiiitttt"

"Rachel, I don't have a little black book and a rating system. I don't actually know how many people I've slept with."

"That would be a good book. 'People I've Screwed' by Santana Lopez. I'd read it."

"You're disgusting when you're drunk."

"And you... you love it.." she screws up her nose and looks at me as intently as you can when you're drunk and about half of your body weight is blueberry vodka.

"Whatever" she grins again with that stupid cute grin but then her face drops.

"I think I'm going to be sick" she jumps up, wobbles, then runs to the bathroom. I follow, and she's already on her hands and knees, resting her chin on the toilet seat.

"Oh god." I run to her side, sweeping her long hair way from her face with one hand, and slipping my other around her waist, holding her as she emptied everything she'd ate n probably the last week. My face is in her hair and I can smell the alcohol and sickly-sweet raspberry shampoo she uses. "You're fine" I whisper "You'll feel better in the morning!

It seems to go on forever. I can hear her retching breaths and feel her body shaking. I stare at the tattoo scrawled on the back of her neck in unforgiving black ink. It says "Mrs W" even though she's not his wife any more. I feel guilty; it should be him - Brody - holding he, not me.

"Santana.." she murmurs, finally straightening up and wiping her mouth. We're both sitting on the bathroom floor, face to face. The tiles are cold, icy cold and our body leaves little shapes on the floor.

"Yeah?" I run my hands through her hair, brushing it away from her face. Her skin is coated in a thin film of sweat ad had that glow that only alcohol could give you. I wonder how she could be sick out of her mind and still look like a million dollars.

"Thanks. And I'm sorry." she smiles, in an awkward, embarrassed kind of way.

"Why?" I watch her lips as they move, the way they smile. I want to kiss her. Oh fuck. I want to kiss her a lot. I don't care that she'll taste like vodka and vomit. I want to kiss her.

"For puking everywhere. It's filthy." she bites her bottom lip. I shake my head and smile at her, then stand up and pull her to her feet, she still can't stand properly.

"Brush your teeth" I tell her, just like a mother would tell her chi;d. I wait for her, leaning n the door frame as she washes her face and quickly brushes her teeth. I watch the water collect in droplets and roll down her neck, coloured slightly grey from her mascara. Then she buries her face in one of the towels, leaving behind a few smudges of make-up.

"How do you feel?" I ask her as she holds my hand tight I her own and pulls me out of the bathroom.

"Okaaaay" she says slowly, making a obvious effort not to slur her words. I doesn't work. "But I think I want to go to sleep." She turns away from me slightly and pulls her shirt off, leaving it crumpled on the floor and her standing barefoot in her jeans and neon green lace bra. I look away, making a conscious effort not to stare at her.

"Okay" I say quietly as I walk to the door. "I'll be back in a minute, I'll just go and get a shirt and-"

"No!" Her voice is sharp as she quickly turns to look at me. look, no, stare at her. She's taken her bra and jeans off, and is only wearing her tiny green panties and clutching a screwed up vest top to her chest.

"What?" I ask, trying desperately to look away. But really it doesn't matter, she's so drunk she won't notice. She smiled almost ashamedly again.

"I'm sorry, I'm just being stupid." I stare at her, looking at the lines that her ribs trace across her chest that are blurred with bruises, the flat, tones skin of her stomach tha is interrupted only by the jutting curves of her hipbones.

"Rachel?" I ask seriously. Well, as seriously as you can be when you're drunk and the hottest person in the world is practically naked right in front of you.

"I just don't want to be alone." she looks down at her feet.

"Rachel, I was only gonna be gone for a second."

"Please Santana?" she bends, and picks up another t-short from the floor. "You can wear this. Just, stay. Please?" She throws it to me, and I catch it. She smiles shyly before turning away and pulling her vest over her head. I change into the shirt she gave me before wriggling out of my jeans. She sits on the edge of her bed and pulls be down beside her. "Thanks for staying. I think I'm still drunk." she mumbles.

"You are such a lightweight." I laugh at her as she mocks offence.

"Maybe the blueeebewy vodka wasn't such an awesome idea after all"

"It definitely was. You're a cute drunk."

"Are you saying that I'm not cute all the time? Because I can assure you, Santana Lopez, that I am cute 100% of the time."

"You're a bitch most of the time."

"What?" the smile slips from her face, then I smirk at her and she gasps. "Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesus Santana, don't do that to me!" I smile back and she grabs me, tickling me furiously until I'm lying on my back in the middle of her bed, writhing and laughing so hard that can't breathe any more.

"Stop!... Stop.. I can't breathe"

"I won't until you beg!"

"Rachel.. God... Jesus... help me. This isn't fair!"

"Life isn't" she shrugs

"Death.. b-by.. tickling.. isn't a ... good.. way to die." I gasp. She growls, grinning down at me and pinning me to the bed. She's so hot. She's way too hot. And she's cute, and funnt. And clever. And nice. And I think she's about to kill me... "Please.. stop!"

She finally stops and lies down beside me on the bed, snuggling close. "Shall we go to sleep now?" she asks innocently.

"Don't cuddle me, I'm not talking to you, Miss Berry.! I pout playfully, and she elbows me in the ribs.

"Shut up, you know I love youuu" she makes a cute face, blinking her eyes and biting her lips.

"If you loved me you wouldn't have almost killed me with tickles" I smile. She tilts her chin upwards and looks at me seriously. Her dark chocolate coloured eyes are now bright and clear, and she's got little tiny lines running along her forehead, so I can tell she's thinking. Her tongue darts out of her mouth, moistening her lips, and she runs a hand through her hair, pulling it away from her face.

"If... If I didn't love you... would I do this?" I open my mouth slightly, about to ask her what she meant.

Then the world stops. I feel frozen in that moment. I save it to my memory like a black and white photograph. The light isn't on, so the room is lit by cool moonlight. Much of the room is in shadow, but the huge bed is bleached white, as a pillar of moonlight falls directly onto it from the French doors, like a spotlight. It's too dark for me to see the money or the newspapers or the photos, but I can just about see tiny glints of her old wedding ring through the darkness. Or maybe I'm just imagining that. The room seems to be stuck in a black and white movie, her dark hair looks ebony black, the skin on her neck looks ivory white, like some modern day, tattooed, young Audrey Hepburn.

Her body curls around mine. She smells like fire and spice and hot smoky roses mixed with blueberry vodka. Her hands pin me to the bed. Her eyes are deep, and so dark that I can't see where her pupils end and her- whatever the fuck you call the part that isn't the pupil- begins. Suddenly they're all I can see.

And then her lips meet mine.


	2. Pretentious Thoughts

_There are always two reasons why people don't talk about things; either it doesn't mean anything to them, or it means everything. Santana, you were- you are my everything so until now I have stayed silent about everything we've done; everything we've seen but I think now is the time to publish my memoirs. You have been many chapters in my life. But I need to start this chapter with before we began. These were my thoughts and feelings throughout this journey. Thank you for riding along with me for a while._

_Rachel Berry_

_Thought 1_

Who cares how high I fill the bath water when I'm already in over my head? I don't remember what it's like to sleep no matter how often I say I am going to bed and don't touch me because I'll probably shatter and for God's sake don't ask me what is the matter with me because I can't tell you.

_Thought 23_

Today I met the most beautiful girl.

_Thought 37_

I feel unspeakably lonely. And I feel - drained. It is a blank state of mind and soul I cannot describe to you as I think it would not make any difference. Also it is a very private feeling I have - that of melting into a perpetual nervous breakdown. I am often questioning myself what I further want to do, who I further wish to be; which parts of me, exactly, are still functioning properly. No answers, darling. At all.

_Thought 49_

There are some things I will never talk about unless I am asked. _Finn, _you are one of them.

_Thought 54_

I ran into the beautiful girl today. I rambled on about how I'd like to know what she was thinking the first time she saw me, with my mess of dark hair and my nervous habit of biting my lower lip and she said that she likes to treat everyone as if they were going to die at midnight - she'd decided and I quote that she'd like to be a "pretentious fuck for a while" so she decided I looked beautiful because that's what people say about people who are dead. I thought she was interesting so I told her; she said even if I wasn't dying she'd still think that I was beautiful. _She called me beautiful._

_Thought 66_

Sometimes I'm too quiet, or too loud. I take things too seriously, or not seriously at all. I'm too sensitive, or too cold-hearted. I hated with every fibre of my being, or I love with every piece of my shattering heart. There's no in between for me. I'm hot or I'm cold. I'm a Katy Perry song. I was either all or nothing. I want everything but I settled for nothing.

_Thought 105_

Sometimes it's 4am and I'm driving down the highway and the road is empty and I know she's meant to be there riding shotgun. Sometimes it's 7pm and I'm sitting in a restaurant and I know she's meant to be sitting opposite me with her hair around her shoulder and her eyes only on me. Sometimes it's 9am and I'm ordering coffee and I know she's meant to be waiting in the car because I know her order too. Sometimes I won't even know what time it is and I think about Santana but I just haven't figured out exactly who she is yet... but I plan to.

_Thought 111_

It's been almost three years since you've been gone Finn &amp; the image of your face is becoming more vague each day. Please don't blame me for moving on but when I'm with her a weight is lifted from my lungs and I feel like there are are butterflies in my stomach and I can finally breathe again. I know that if you met her you'd love her and I'm sure she'd love you just as much but this is the reality. She's here and you're not. And I think, maybe, I don't - I think I'm starting to accept that.

_Thought 118_

I can't wait to learn what you do with our hands when you're not holding mine.

_Thought 129_

The first time we kissed it was me who initiated it. I'd told you all about Finn and you thought you had big shoes to fill. I made a stupid pun about how you literally had big shoes to fill because he had size 14 feet but you could tell I was nervous. I wanted you so badly. To hold your hand, to feel your heart beat, to have your lips touch mine. I hadn't kissed anyone since Finn. No lips could rival yours and that's when I knew I was truly over Finn. I could move on with you. The second time we kissed, you initiated it. And it was magical. Your lips were the only lips I wanted to taste forever.

_Thought 136_

The first time you told me you loved me, you sighed it into my mouth, wedged between teeth and tongues. You didn't even let your lips move when you said it, ever so lightly, into the air. Maybe it was just an exhalation of ecstasy.

_Thought 137_

The first time I said I love you, I whispered it into your hair in the middle of the night, after I counted the space between your breaths and was certain you were asleep. I shut my eyes quickly when you shifted towards me in askance. Maybe I was just sleep whispering.

_Thought 139_

The first time you remembered me saying I love you was when I spat it into your voicemail, a little slurred ad sounding like the shot of whiskey I downed for courage. I felt as ashamed as one would walking into their workplace wearing last nights clothing. I woke up cringing for days, waiting for you to mention it.

_Thought 239_

I'm sorry I'm a bad person. I'm sorry sometimes I don't feel things. I'm sorry I can't control myself. I'm sorry I set everyone I touch on fire and leave them to burn.

_Thought 478_

Today we broke up.

_Thought 485_

Two months ago you said my hair smelt like flowers and today I saw you step on a rose.

_Thought 486_

Of all the people I'd kissed you were my favourite.

_Thought 487_

I want to be able to look at you and not feel so hurt by you but I can't. Today my phone rang and for one stupid second I thought maybe you were calling me to say something like, "I can't get you out of my head, and I know this is insane but can we just talk. I know we're still in love" I thought maybe you had decided to care, but It was somebody asking about my schedule for the day. I hate that I was so disappointed.

_Thought 500_

People get drunk. They hook up with the wrong person and pretend to be okay. People act tough and get angry. People will do anything to distract their heart. They will do anything to distract it from missing someone.

_Thought 502_

I said please don't ever leave me hanging and you told me you would ever do that to me. You told me you loved me and at the time those words were comforting but now that you're not here any more; supposedly not coming back, those words are empty promises you made and are haunting me while I'm awake and while I'm asleep I can't get rid of the pain you caused and I'm so sick of feeling this way because there's not way out. I know that you are my forever as much as I know that you loved it when I wore red lipstick just so you could kiss me and it would mesh with yours.

_Thought 529_

Every time I run into you I want to say the same things. I want to tell you how I know that the world can be a cold place and people make bad decisions ad we will be hurt a thousand times in our lives. I want to tell you how I know that nothing is certain and everything could crash at any moment. I know we will go one day like all things do and I know that some day the universe will collapse and all the stars will explode and I am so in love with you. But I never say any of that. just smile, ask how you've been and hope that you haven't moved on.

_Thought 533_

My friend, Kurt, you've met him a couple of times told me that I should get over you or fight for you and I don't know which to pick.

_Thought 545_

I knocked on your door and when you answered I said the first thing that came to mind which was "Please don't be in love with someone else" which was the product of me listening to Enchanted by Taylor Swift the whole drive to your apartment. You said that you wished you could look at me and not feel so hurt by me. Then you said you had to be pretentious and said the reason we broke up was because "I used to think I set a fire in your eyes but I've learned that was just the reflection of the one you set in mine" You said something I understood clearly which was "I didn't think that you'd moved on from him." I had. I asked if we could try again and your answer was " I don't know" before you gently closed the door in my face. The fact that you didn't slam it was proof enough. We could try again because everything you did from the day we met was a metaphor or simply pretentious. I still don't know why you needed to be pretentious.


	3. It's Treacherous

_I took a deep breath as I walked towards the door I had knocked on many times in my short life but now seemed so foreign. Stood on the doorstep, I began shaking slightly as I slowly reached for the doorbell, just as I was about to muster up the courage to press it, the door opened and a small familiar figure stood in front of me. There was no going back now._

For a few seconds we just stood there, looking at each other, it was so fucking awkward.

"Do you want to come in?" Rachel eventually asked, but she didn't really sound like she wanted me to.

"Sure," I smiled, trying to ease the tension.

"Where's Quinn?" She asked casually as I followed her down the hallway._God. She didn't take any of our pictures down._

"Erm, she had some shit to do somewhere and I forgot all my make up, so she's doing be a favour and picking it up. You know how I can't live without eye liner," I told her trying to make things more light hearted. Anyone - even a decapitated toddler - could cut through the tension with their metaphorical knife.

"I was going to say how good you were looking. You always look beautiful." She had a genuine look of confusion on her face which in no way helped me from trying t conceal don't feel don't let it show. _Oh wow. Now I'm singing a song from a Disney movie and Elsa, who I think is a closeted lesbian, sounds strangely like Rachel's mom. That doesn't help anything._

"Thanks." It came out as a whisper and I needed to leave as soon as I could. Quinn was supposed to chaperone. What a bitch, when I offered her on out from what she calls "The sexual tension nation" I was hoping she wouldn't take it. _Fuck. _"You look pretty good too."

"Don't feel like you have to say that. I'm no longer the fresh faced 19 year old girl you left behind in New York. I'm really tired and stressed at the moment, Santana, I look far from 'pretty good'" She was laughing, but not in the usual way. I could tell that she actually meant something by her off-handed statement about me leaving her behind.

"Honestly, you look perfect." I was saying the truth. _Just look at her hair and her eyes and holy shit her lips._She always managed to look stunning whatever the circumstances which got pretty annoying because after a night out when we've both puked our stomachs dry, and we've got headaches, I'm covered in spots and look a stupid shade of green, she looks radiant as hell.

"Well, I'll take your word for it then," She was smiling more genuinely this time but I could tell hat there was something on her mind. "Why are you here? I've not seen you in five years Santana." I knew it was coming to this; I just hoped it would be later rather than now. Well, it was now or never and I don't know which of the two sounded more harrowing for me.

"I just - I needed to see how you were doing?" It was phrased as more of a question and my confident bravado was failing me. "Okay, no - we both know that's bull crap. So,, why don't you start by asking me why I left." Her eyes narrowed; wondering if I was being rhetorical or if I was seriously telling her to ask me why I left._I guess it was now._

"Why did you leave?" One of her eyebrows slightly quirked upward and I started to think about when I first started noticing all of these small details about her. _5 years ago. Just before I left._

"I left because-" Santana Lopez does not fear peoples rejection but maybe she does fear Rachel rejecting her. _Maybe. _"Because I was starting to fall in love with you." I cautioned a glance at her but she had an unreadable expression on her face. "You were with that dick and I knew you'd probably- no, definitely kick me out of the loft if I asked you to pick me or him and I, I didn't want to hear the words 'I don't love you back' ever come out of your mouth so I settled for the words 'Goodbye Santana. Call me when you get to your new place' but you know I never did that. I tried so hard to move past you like you were just a fleeting moment of insanity in my mind but I just couldn't and no matter who I was with I imagined it to be you and when funny things happened I felt the need to tell you about them. I didn't. In time, the hurt began to fade and it was getting easier to try and let go. At least I thought it was. But in every girl I met in he next few years, I found myself looking for you, and when the feelings got too strong, I'd record a voicemail and not send it or just add another few text messages to my unsent folder. By then, you'd gone on with your life and I didn't want to think about you loving someone else. I wanted to remember us like we were. Like, when we cuddled on the couch watching 'Burlesque' or when we got take out and I was there for your first non-vegan meal since you were 8 or the time when we were snowed in and the heating was broke so we decided to wrap scarves around each other and revel in the feeling of being young and stupid. You aren't just a person. You're a place that I get stuck in and you're this pain in my chest that I just can't get rid of no matter how much I claw at it." I let out a sigh and I didn't realise how good it would actually feel to have everything off of my chest and as I was waiting for her reaction, denial was the last thing I expected.

"No- I don't believe you. Do you have _any _idea of how much it hurt me when you left? I wanted to kiss you goodbye, actually I wanted to kiss you goodnight, every night. I tried to justify why you'd just leave me like that. I tried to justify why you'd forgotten me. Maybe it was because you still saw me as that ugly troll from high school, who owned more argyle than the entirety of Lima's nursing home residents. I used to hope that some day maybe you'd come across something that I loved, something seemingly insignificant like chocolate covered raisins and you'd wonder if I still ate them when I was too lazy to make lunch or if you saw people crossing their pinky's together and you'd remember he time that we pinky promised each other to stay in New York for two years but you broke that. I wondered if you ever wondered about me because you don't just leave people you love without a word - as if I never meant anything to you. You knew how important you were to me but you still left." She was saying anything that came to mind; she must've kept this bottled up for years.

"I didn't mean to hurt you Rachel and you know that. I left because I loved you. I did't want to get in the way of you and what's his face- If you don't love me anyore, or never did, just tell me now so I can leave and move on." This was not the way I wanted this to end. I wanted to be with her.

"Of course I love you and I always have. He was just a distraction from you. I want you to be able to call me at 4 a.m., even if you're too sad to speak, I'll listen to your silence till you fall asleep. If you need to cry I'll wipe your tears or maybe I won't because you're only human and sometimes tears are as close to laughter as you can get and that's okay. if you get tired, I'll let you drool on my arm and I won't laugh at you if you snore too loud - which we both know is something you do. If you need to yell so hard that your voice cracks and your knees fail, I'll hold you up and yell with you. If you get so angry you punch your hands red, I will ice your knuckles and make stupid puns about the situation. I want to be with you. It's always been you."

"Really?" That was everything I'd ever wanted to hear.

"Really."


	4. Forced Abandon

It's two o'clock in the afternoon and I know that I should get out of bed and do something, _anything_ to stop me from noticing that she's really gone, but I can't. I can't because the sheets are still warm and I can still smell her perfume on the pillows. She still lingers everywhere. I want to stay right here in this very spot because I can still smell her on my skin and I need to hold onto that for just a little bit longer. I'm not quite ready to let her go yet.

I lie back down, on my side with my knees tucked into my chest and think about what I've done; how I've deliberately sabotaged one of the best things that's ever happened to me because I selfishly wanted to protect myself, and her, from getting hurt in the long run. At the time it had made perfect sense but now it sounds stupid because I _am_ hurting, quite a bit, and I know she is too but I had to get out now before things went any further. Before I fell any deeper.

It wasn't planned, this thing between the two of us. It started off as nothing serious; just a bit of fun, something that we'd do when we were both drunk or feeling a bit lonely because we'd both been single for way too long. I wasn't expecting it to turn into something more and I_definitely _wasn't expecting to fall in love with her.

It frightened me at first, when I realised that I was having those kinds of feelings for her and initially I tried avoiding her because I just couldn't deal with it. Everyone knows about my issues with commitment and intimacy with anyone who wasn't Brittany and true to form, I did what I usually do when things get a little heavy; I ran and hid. But after the third day of screening her calls and deleting her texts, I caved in and called her back because I couldn't go a second longer without hearing her voice.

She was understandably upset at being ignored like that and fuck did she make sure that I knew about it. In the past, her outbursts and temper tantrums have just sort of washed over me but sitting there listening to her yell and scream down the phone about how worried she was really made me stop and listen. I realised then, how much she cared about me and even though she didn't say it until a few months later, I knew she loved me just as much as I loved her.

And it's because I love her so fucking much that I'm putting myself, and her, through this. She's been through so much in the past and she's still come out fighting, working her ass off to make something of herself, to be successful, and I don't want to be the one that holds her back. I convince myself that ultimately it's for the best, that among other things, the timing just isn't right, what with my career about to kick off, and hers being so widely successful that practically every man, woman and child in America knows who she is.

A quick glance over at the clock tells me that her plane is probably in the air now and I think about the swarm of paparazzi that will be waiting for her when her plane touches down in a few hours time. Another reason why I had to end it.

She'd gradually gotten used to it, being hounded by the press day and night; being on the cover of at least a dozen magazines a week, but I'm not sure that I'll ever be able to cope with that level of intrusion. Weirdly, I prefer to keep out of the spotlight when I'm not on stage and if the press ever got wind of our relationship, it'd be chaos. What the two of us had was special and I wasn't willing to share it with anyone else, especially not the public.

She'd had tears in her eyes when I told her I wanted out, that I couldn't do this anymore because it wasn't fair on either of us and she sat and listened while I tried to explain. It all sounded very logical when I went over it in my head the night before but when I tried to get the words out, I choked on them; my own emotions getting the better of me. I didn't say half of what I wanted to but the one thing I made sure of was that she believed me when I said that it wasn't her, that this whole damn thing had absolutely _nothing_ to do with her, that it was all on me. She had to know that or I don't think I'd have had the strength to go through with it.

But somehow I did and I try to swallow the tears building up inside me when I think about how much I'm going to miss her. It doesn't work and I let myself cry silently for a few minutes before sitting up and patting my damp cheeks with the corner of the duvet before throwing back the covers and heading to the bathroom to jump in the shower, intending to rid myself of the last little bit of evidence that Rachel and I were ever together _like that_.

The hot jets of water hit my body and I can't help the sob of despair that escapes my throat at the realisation that it's really over.


	5. Be Here

You take your phone out of your jeans pocket and read the text message again. You must have read it at least a dozen times now and you _still_ don't get it.

_Santana, you can thank me later. Quinn xx_

It was there when you woke up this morning and you think to yourself that she must have been drunk when she sent it because it makes absolutely no fucking sense at all. And making sense is usually one of Quinn's strong points.

You put your phone away and frown in confusion. Just what exactly are you meant to be thanking her for? Making a mental note to call her this afternoon, you slip on a pair of heels and head out the front door. Your appetite is pretty much non-existent these days so you don't bother having breakfast but you do make a point of calling by your local Starbucks to grab a vanilla latte on your way to the studio.

Downtown LA traffic is a nightmare at this time of day and after fifteen minutes of sitting in complete gridlock you switch on the radio, hoping it will help pass the time. You aren't expecting to hear one of _her_ songs come on and although it isn't a total surprise, because you've been hearing rumours about her album being released for a couple of weeks now, the sudden sound of her voice makes your heart squeeze uncomfortably.

You haven't seen or heard from her since _that day_ and at first you thought a clean break would make things easier; that you'd have both dealt with the split and moved on by the time it comes to see each other next

And while Rachel has been distracting herself with her new playboy, some camp broadway dude, it didn't quite work out that way for you and three and a half weeks down the line, you miss her more than ever.

Last week, on a particularly dull Tuesday afternoon, you sank to a whole new level of desperation and resorted to watching the new series of her show on Netflix, just to catch a glimpse of her. Although it didn't do you much good because from the moment the programme started all you could think about was your desire to smack her on screen boyfriend's hand away every time he draped it over her shoulders.

And as for the whole stiff upper lip, big girls don't cry thing; it's such a load of crap, because despite your best efforts, you_ have _cried. You've cried quite a lot of tears over her lately and judging by the dampness of your pillow each night, it doesn't look like you're going to stop crying any time soon.

No one knew about your relationship of course, apart from the two of you, so your management think that your upcoming single release is the reason why you've been so distracted recently. They don't know that you're trying, _and failing miserably_, to get over someone who you're pretty sure was the love of your life.

Quickly deciding that carrying on with this train of thought isn't going to help you get through the working day; you give yourself a shake and finish off the rest of your latte, putting the empty cup into the cup holder just as the traffic starts to move again.

Arriving at the studio, you say a quick hello to Lucas, one of the producers, before heading out the back to where the magic happens, intending to work your way through the lyrics you'd been meaning to write for a few weeks. When you get there, you notice that the door is ajar; which is odd because you're _sure_that you closed it before locking up and leaving last night, but you take no notice of it and assume that Lucas or one of the other produucers must have gone in there to get something.

Throwing your jacket and bag down onto the worn leather sofa in the corner, you're almost given a heart attack when the high back chair behind your desk slowly spins around to reveal the tiny figure of the girl whose heart you broke.

For a few minutes neither of you says anything and you just stand there, looking at each other until the sound of Lucas dropping something startles you both and breaks the silence that has taken over the room. Not knowing where to start, you tell her about hearing her single on the radio this morning and she smirks back at you, saying that it's almost like they knew she was coming.

You take a seat on the edge of the sofa, looking down to the floor and ask her what she's doing here. It's not that you're not glad to see her but turning up like this, especially after what went on between the two of you is a bit unexpected to say the least.

She sighs and tells you she missed you, you don't hesitate in saying it back, and that she's been doing a lot of thinking lately; mostly about you. This makes you look up inquisitively and you offer her a sad smile, letting her know that you've been thinking about her too. _She's all you think about these days._

Her big brown eyes look back at you and you notice that they don't sparkle like they used to anymore. It's clear to see that she's had a rough few weeks and you feel the need to apologise for what you've put her through, your voice cracking as you struggle to get the words out.

She gets up from the desk chair to come and sit beside you, so close that you can smell her perfume and tentatively puts a hand on your back, comforting you. She tells you its ok and that she gets why you did it now; _that Quinn helped her to understand._

You turn you head to look at her and suddenly you realise what that text was all about. She goes on to explain that she'd got off the plane that day and headed straight round to Quinn's apartment, pouring her heart and soul out to the Bradford girl as soon as she opened the front door.

It'd come as a bit of a shock but Quinn had been her 'usual' kind-hearted self and provided a shoulder to cry on while Rachel told the whole story from the beginning; ending up in tears by the time she'd finished _because she thought you didn't love her anymore._

But having lived with you for the better part of two years, Quinn knows you well enough to know how you think and saw through your little charade in an instant. She tells you that she didn't believe it at first; she thought Quinn was just trying to make her feel better. But eventually, when her tears had dried, she sat up and took notice of what the older girl was saying. _And it all made perfect sense. _

It took Quinn a long time to convince her to get her arse on a plane and come talk to you. The possibility of rejection terrified her but somehow she worked up the courage to do it and she tells you that now she's here, she isn't leaving without putting up a fight.

She stops talking then and you realise that the ball is in your court.

Remembering the old saying that actions speak louder than words, you turn yourself towards her and bring a hand up to cup her cheek as you lean in to kiss her. She responds eagerly to the contact and long minutes are lost as you explore each other's mouths, your lungs burning for air by the time you separate.

There's an unmistakable look of relief on her face and she leans forward to rest her forehead against yours, trying to steady her breathing. You draw her into your arms and lie back on the sofa, enjoying the feeling of being able to hold her again. Her fingers dig into your sides as she clings to you and you tell her again how sorry you are.

She squeezes you that little bit tighter and says that _she's sorry too_, for not seeing how scared you were.

You kiss her hair and tell her that it's ok, you're not scared anymore. And even if things aren't perfect all the time, you know that you can deal with whatever is thrown at you because you've got her. And you're _never_ letting her go again.

Your phone beeps and it's another message from Quinn.

_Say hi to Rachel for me _;)

You smile to yourself and make a note to send her the biggest bunch of flowers money can buy first thing tomorrow morning. But right now all you want to do is take Rachel home and _really_ make it up to her.


	6. Promises Fade

The music pumped over the stereo, the remix's heavy bass jarring my bones slightly. It's all I can hear; I can't even hear my own thoughts until I spot _her_ and suddenly everything is silent. She spots me at the same time, and smiles. Weakly, I wave. She beckons me onto the dance floor as I shake my head slowly. Her eyes are smouldering, her lips arranged into a perfect pout. The irises look black from this distance, or maybe her pupils are just heavily dilated, the way I'm sure mine are.

She sways to the music, gyrating as she gestures for me to join her once more.

I look at her, and then to the floor, then to the tray of shots in front of me. I inhale deeply before knocking back one, two, _three_ of them, ignoring the bitter taste and the acute burning in my chest as I swallow.

Hesitantly I stand, and she smiles at me wickedly - kind of ironic, she's in a show called wicked, not the time for puns Santana -She outstretches a hand and I take it, closing my eyes as I shoot a quick prayer to the heavens.

_Please God, just-_

I'm cut off from my thoughts as I become aware of the hand resting on my waist, and I look up to meet her eyes. I was right, her pupils are dilated, gazing at me hungrily as she lets go of my hand and drops hers to my ass. I open my mouth but she hushes me, dragging me into the middle of the crowded dance floor. She pulls me close, moving against me as I feel my hands move to her waist instinctively.

The music is more upbeat now, and we both move faster. We both move in rhythm to the music, but more importantly with each other. My hair moves into my face, and I lift my hand to brush it away but Rachel beats me there. Her finger tips brush against my skin lightly as they push the strands away before tangling themselves in my tresses. Her hand in my hair, I automatically move one hand further up her back, the other to the back of her neck. I stand there for a moment, frozen, the music forgotten. Her eyes flicker down to my lips, and I know what's going to happen. Something I'd promised would never happen again.

_As hope and promise fade_  
_And the sun forgets to rise_  
_I'm lonely and I'm thirsty_  
_But it's better I stay dry_  
_No more than two drinks away_  
_From crying_

That stupid Chris Cornell song song echoes in my head as she leans in slowly and I mirror her action. I pull away at the last second - both of us. We're too careful to let anything happen in a place like this, where anyone could see us. Her fingers wrap around my wrist, and she pulls me towards the exit, because she _will_ get that kiss.

But the moment is gone and the promise I made is coming back to me. I push her away, telling her I'm not doing this, not again. I hope desperately she hasn't heard the tremor in my voice. She stares at me for a second before throwing her head back and laughing. Because she knows that I can't resist her, I've never been able to resist her.  
She looks at me lustfully, leaning in close to stroke my cheek softly before turning and walking way. I hate that she presumes I'll follow like a sad puppy dog, but she's right and I do. I reach the taxi rank and she reaches backwards, still not looking. I take her outstretched hand and she turns and faces me with a smirk. Triumph is written all over her beautiful features as she yanks me roughly, pulling me in a nearby cab. She reels off her address and the driver nods. I feel her hand creep over my thigh towards the hemline of my dress but I still it. If we're going to do this, it'll be on my terms. It definitely won't be in the back seat of some shady cab. Rachel instead lifts my hand to her mouth, stroking her lips across the back of it.

"Just you wait," she whispers, her voice husky. I gulp nervously. The taxi soon pulls up outside her apartment building and she tugs me in past the security gates. She opens the door and as soon as we're in dives in for a kiss. I redirect it to my cheek. I've sobered up and if this is going to happen - she understands, must've, because she goes through to the kitchen, emerging with a bottle of vodka which I take a few large swigs from.

My heads buzzing now, and I set the bottle down on the table. I feel her eyes on me, and I turn to face her. I want this now, I'm ready for it and I'm going to enjoy it.

She gasps as I pull her towards me, crashing our lips together. I push her against the wall and roughly demand entry to her mouth. She obliges and I wonder where this part of me has come from, because it was always me up against the wall gasping desperately for air. I reach down, sneaking my hands up her dress. My fingers brush against her, coming away wet as she jolts at the contact. I'm in no mood to tease and I hitch her dress up to her waist and yank her panties off. She moans against my lips as I enter her. I take it as encouragement, beginning to pump in and out of her rapidly. With the other hand I pull her dress over her head, and then remove her bra so she's completely naked. I'm fully dressed and I've never felt so empowered with her before. With my thumb I glide over her most sensitive area while I hit the right spot exactly with every thrust of my hand. I'm holding her weight now, as her knees begin to buckle. She moans my name over and over, her eyes rolling back into her head as she struggles to keep them open. She comes explosively, with a loud scream and a wild jerk and I bring her to the peak again and again until she's just a quivering mess in my arms.

I slide down to the floor myself. Still turned on, I reach between my own legs, yearning for release. She stops me though, and still breathing heavily, leads me through to her bedroom. She pushes me onto the bed and helps me out of the dress I'm wearing. She kisses me now, lying on top of me, but being underneath doesn't mean I'm not in control. I delight in the way her body jerks as I grind against her. I love the way she moans throatily against my lips as I caress her breasts. She leaves my mouth, mapping a trail of kisses across my skin, down to my throbbing centre. She doesn't mess about, we both want this too much, and she moves her head between my legs. She laps at my clit and I grab on to the bed as I convulse in pleasure. I'm already close to the edge when she enters and my hips buck off the bed as I gasp. She looks up at me, searching for approval because somehow, I'm still the one in charge. I can't form words so I offer her a shaky thumbs up. Laughing, she returns to her job, and soon I can feel nothing but pure bliss as waves of pleasure wash over me.

She returns up my body, retracing her path of kisses before kissing me softly on the lips. She lies down next to me, taking my hand and holds it against her as she closes her eyes and I do the same.

Tonight shouldn't have happened, I know that. I promised it wouldn't. Some part of me though, knew it would. Just as I knew now, that I was never going to stop this, and neither was Rachel.

I open my eyes and look at her and wonder what hold it is that she has over me.

_I had my love beside me_  
And everything was fine  
But now the ride is over  
It's hard to say goodbye


	7. It's Time

"What are you going to do when I die?" Santana said absent-mindedly.  
Rachel's fingers stopped frantically typing and hesitated over her keyboard for a second. She looked up at Santana, who was showing an emotionless expression whilst looking out of the window.  
"Why are you asking me this? I don't really want to think about that." She replied dryly.  
"Well you're going to have to, Rachel. You know it's just a matter of time." Santana spat whilst coming down off of the ledge of the window and letting her hospital gown droop freely. She shuffled back to her bed and lay there, staring at the ceiling.  
Rachel was sitting in the not-so-comfy chair beside the bed, her laptop over-heating on her lap. She had an essay due for tomorrow but her girlfriend was a more important issue right now, she had realised. Rachel sighed and Santana turned her head to face her. Her eyes were so sad - they had been like that for so long, Rachel had noticed. Her skin was so pale and tired, just worn out from treatment. Under her eyes were dark rings, and her hair was thin and weak.  
She grimaced after examining her girlfriend's appearance and took Santana's hand in her own.  
"Listen, you. You aren't going, it's not your time yet. I can feel it Santana, I'm not worried about it all. I know for sure you'll get through this. You're so strong and-" she felt Santana's grip become tighter on her own hand. Fighting back a tear, she finished – "And I love you." It came out barely a whisper as the unwanted tears started to stream down her face.

Rachel remembered this conversation so well, she more or less thought about it every day. They had been dating for slightly over a year now. And it was 4 months after this conversation took place. 3 months since Santana had defeated that awful disease. 2 months since Santana came home for good. A month since Santana had returned to her old awkward-goofy and remotely bitchy self. And today, she is healthy. And Rachel couldn't have a more amazing life right now.  
Rachel was lying on the grass outside on top of a blanket, with a bag full of food. She had more or less everything edible because she knew her girlfriend could be picky with what she ate, and she wanted to make Santana happy 24/7. Soon after Rachel lay soaking in the sun for the best part of 20 minutes, she felt a body pound against her back as 2 arms wrapped round her chest with a familiar squeal of excitement in her ear.  
A smile so wide spread across her face as she grabbed the arms and spun round for her eyes to meet with her girl. Her jet black hair was back to normal, soft and bouncy. Her eyes never seemed so bright before, and happy. There was so much colour in her cheeks that it almost made Rachel feel overwhelmed whenever she saw her, because somewhere in her mind there was always a flashback to when Santana didn't look so healthy. Santana leaned in for a much needed hug. "I love you", she whispered into Rachel's ear.  
"And I love you.", she replied after they shared a kiss. Another thing Rachel had noticed was how soft Santana's lips were now. And she got to enjoy every minute of it.  
"Okay so what have you got then", Santana more or less stated instead of using a tone of question as she stopped focusing on her girlfriend to grab the bag and rummage through whatever Rachel had bought. Rachel just laughed at her eagerness. "She's so adorable", Rachel thought to herself.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Santana shrieked whilst walking hand in hand with Rachel.

"Shut up!"

"No okay let me get this straight" Santana said with disbelief whilst she dropped Rachel's hand. "You'd rather listen to old-school Miley Cyrus than come to a gig with me?!" Rachel could only laugh. She knew what kind of gigs Santana went to. Loud, scary and quite violent she had heard – and she just wasn't into that.

"For the record, you know I like Miley so stop right there! Though she may not be the best role model for young girls, she is being herself and her voice is amazing." She replied, trying to defend herself as Santana's face screwed up and she shook her head.  
"You are definitely going to come to a gig with me, Berry!" She playfully stated with a light punch to her girlfriends arm. "I'll make sure of it." Rachel looked at her from the corner of her eye and smiled as their fingers automatically interlocked again. The chemistry could definitely be felt through the warmth feeling they both shared whenever they even saw each other, let alone physical contact.  
After a comfortably silenced walk through the park, Rachel faced Santana.  
"Okay! You win." She said whilst rolling her eyes.

Santana was lost. "Huh?"  
"I'll come to a gig with you. Happy now?" she said trying to act like she was in a mood although she couldn't help smile when Santana's excitement could be seen appearing on her face.  
"What?! Really? You'll love it Rach. It'll be great!" she shouted as she grabbed her in for a hug. "Friday night is the next one, it'll be awesome. I love you!"  
Rachel didn't want to go at all. It wasn't her scene, but anything to make Santana happy.

It was around the twilight hours of Friday night. Rachel was so nervous and she didn't know why, it was probably because it was going to be her first time experiencing a gig. Well, a "scary" gig that is. Rachel was in her room trying on clothes to wear. She finally decided on a cute skirt with a red blouse and black heels. "This is suitable for a gig, right?" she asked herself. She had no time to question if it was or not as the doorbell rang, and she could tell it was Santana from the familiar shriek she heard when her cat had an encounter with her outside on the porch. She laughed to herself as she ran downstairs and opened the door. Rachel's eyes widened as she took Santana's chosen look in. She was taken aback as she skimmed her girlfriends outfit – black skinny jeans that hugged her perfectly in all the right places, a deep burgandy over-stretched vest that showed a tiny bit of side-boob and complete with Converse. Her hair fell perfectly around her face as she decided for once not to pin parts of it back. She looked amazing, even if it was her typical look.  
"Wo-uh… ah" Rachel managed to get out.  
Santana laughed. "Are you done drooling or what? You look gorgeous. Now come on, let's go!", she said with the biggest grin, as she pulled Rachel's hand and ran down to the car. Santana was going to drop them off at a bar across from the venue for some pre-gig drinks. If they were drunk they'd take a cab home. Rachel had to know everything - she liked to be in control of situations.

"Relax! It'll be great." Santana reassured her girlfriend as they both sat at a table with cushioned seats - a Vodka and diet Coke for Rachel and some Whiskey for herself were cradled in the middle. It was an hour before the gig was going to start, and they were on their fifth drink in a filthy looking dead-end bar. Even an old man in the corner had been giving them creepy looks and toothless grins while resting his chin on his walking stick. It was probably the only entertainment he ever gets, so they didn't bother doing anything about it.

Rachel still had the nervous feeling, she was so anxious and it had only increased earlier as Santana had pulled into this horrible looking little street. It was so eerie although there was booming music from every open window in the place. "Um.. Santana? Do you think this is a safe place?" Rachel had asked when they got out of the car - to which Santana gave a confused look. "Of course it is!"  
So she tried her best to trust her, but the feeling just wouldn't shift.  
Santana then looked at Rachel and then downed her last drink.  
"Right. Come on then, we'll just go in early." She nodded to herself as she picked up her girlfriend's drink – Rachel grabbed her arm and took the Vodka and diet Coke from her, looked at Santana then also downed it. Her face then distorting for a split second from how strongly measured it was, she looked at Santana and smiled as she was so obviously taken aback from Rachel's un-characteristic behaviour. "..Okay, so.. yeah, come on." she finished.  
Another creepy look from the man in the corner only rushed them out of the door faster as they stumbled out onto the street. It was only until the air got to her that Rachel realised she wasn't exactly sober. And neither was Santana - she noticed as she watched her girlfriend swing round a lamp-post, laughing to herself.  
"Oh God." Was all she could say. Although, she was still sober enough to function which was better than Santana's newly state.  
"Santana.. Santana, SANTANA!" Rachel slurred a tad.  
A moan came from Santana as she found her feet and stumbled towards Rachel. She laughed at absolutely nothing and pointed towards some stairs which led to a purple-blue lit entrance. Rachel figured that's where this gig was going to take place so they both ventured up the steel stairs, and a few falls and wheezing laughter later they made it to the top with a surreal loudness of music booming from where they stood.  
"Let us in!", Santana slurred at the doorman. He rolled his eyes and stepped to the right to let them pass and into the dark-musky corridor. "Okay okay okay I know.. I know where to go it's here.. WE ARE HERE!" Santana more or less screamed as they turned into a room absolutely packed with people drinking and dancing. The music was so loud Rachel could hardly hear herself think, and she was already panicking even with alcohol in her system – which she thought would even relax her a little bit. "What do we do?" she tried to shout over the music, as she turned her head to see no Santana. The worst feelings took over her, sheer worry and panic. "SANTANA? SANTANA?", she continuously shouted at no one in particular, she was just waiting for a response. She spun round and looked everywhere frantically. She spotted a chair to stand up on, then continued to skim the room full of people with great difficulty as a cloudy mist was thick in the air of the entire space. She silently cried, she couldn't help it. "What if something's happened to her? She's drunk, she isn't safe" she kept thinking.  
Rachel got down and kept pushing her way through the crowd. "SANTANA?" she kept shouting. "Santana isn't here pretty girl.." she heard faintly as a hand grabbed her ass. She squealed and tried her best to push further away, deeper into the mass of people. She was looking so quickly at everyone, and she strangely caught eye with a man across the room. He was with a group of other men, and he grinned whilst taking another draw of a cigarette. His eyes were shifty and Rachel became instantly stiff with fear until hands clasped around her waist. "Heeeeey", she heard the sweet (drunk) tone of her Santana.  
She turned round furiously. "Santana I was worried sick! Where the– I was looking everywhere for you" She shouted over the music, more furious than intended and Santana's drunk response was of course puppy dog eyes. "I needed to pee", she stated without a care in the world. Rachel couldn't stay mad at her and put her arm around her, kissing her cheek. "Don't leave me again."

The gig had been on for about half an hour so far. Surprisingly, Rachel was having the time of her life. The band playing was also covering some songs she actually knew, so she sang her heart out with Santana slurring-ly doing so, too. Although, they were aware that you couldn't actually move in the crowd. Everyone was basically grinding on everyone in the place so without hesitation both of the girls grinded on one another.

The night went on and the band announced it was going to be their last song whilst ignoring the "boo's" from the crowd. They covered I Will Follow You into the Dark by Death Cab for Cutie and finished whilst everyone was on a high, and still very drunk. The stage lights went off for a split second, causing everyone to either cheer, scream or make some sort of odd "shocked" noise, and Rachel gripped hold of Santana. The place was in total darkness, except from the small light from the neon lit door down the corridor in the distance. It was blocked every 2 seconds from people filing out of the venue.  
Everyone was slowly shuffling, no one could get out any faster than anyone else.  
"Are you alright Santana?" Rachel asked. She heard a moan which more or less sounded like a "yes" and just continued to hold Santana and shuffle to the door occasionally.  
The place was so loud from everyone talking and yelling at people to "move faster" or "hurry up" that Rachel didn't hear something escape Santana's lips.  
Santana was aware someone was too close to her. And there was something on her side, and she didn't want to process what she thought it was. She completely stiffened. But Rachel didn't notice because the crowd had stopped for a minute or so to let more people get out anyway. So Santana squeezed Rachel's hand, only for Rachel to grin and squeeze back – she wasn't getting it. Something was wro-  
Santana's vision went blank. Something burst into her side. It was like one giant needle just broke the skin. It jabbed deeper and deeper, thrusting in and out maybe 3 times which felt like slow motion. The feeling of someone behind her was gone and Santana gasped - she couldn't breathe properly. She tugged at Rachel's arm as she froze completely, collapsing to the hard wooden floor. Rachel felt the jolt action tug down on her arm as she heard the thump of Santana's body. Suddenly, the whole place felt surreal. The booming of stereos was a distant sound in her head, as were the shouting of the crowd. She too collapsed down with Santana. A scream automatically came out as she shakingly held Santana's face. Then yelling her name over and over.  
She felt warmth on her arm. She lifted it to feel sticky blood. She was losing so much, it was all over her. And of course she wore that over-sized vest so it was directly onto the skin.  
Tears fell from Rachel's eyes onto Santana's hair as she held her head to her chest, cradling her.  
"Santana wake up" she begged over and over, repeatedly until her voice was eventually a hoarse whisper. She wasn't even aware of her surroundings anymore, that was until someone shouted beside her.  
"Excuse me, we're the paramedics – we're going to just check on your friend and take her to hospital, Okay?" Rachel didn't respond. The men eventually loosened her grip on Santana and guided her to a chair. The place was empty now and she didn't even realise. How much time had passed? If the paramedics were going to take her to hospital was she going to be okay? Was she conscious?  
She tried to make sense of what actually happened whilst she cried, non-stop. She just stared at the men who were trying to help her girlfriend.  
"We're just going to have to shock her just now, Jeff – we have to, otherwise she won't make it back."  
She heard faintly.  
Then a black blur passed the corner of her eye for a split second whilst her head was in her hands. She caught eyes with someone. The same grin she saw earlier. And then he fled. She shrieked, she ran and she yelled. Tears streaming – she knew it was him. He'd done that to her girlfriend. To her Santana. "I HATE YOU – I HATE YOU.. I HATE" she let out a painful scream and slumped down the corridor wall as she saw4 the coward run away. She pulled on her hair, she scratched her face with frustration and anger. She couldn't live without Santana. She loved her so much. There's no point in living if she had gone – and to which a paramedic looked round the corner to catch eyes with Rachel.  
Rachel ran towards him – "How is she?" she said quietly.  
"I'm so sorry, we tried but.." he trailed off as he tried not to make eye contact with Rachel.  
Rachel stepped back. She felt sick. This wasn't happening. She slammed towards the man shouting-  
"NO SHE ISN'T GONE, SHE ISN'T SHE WAS FINE 10 MINUTES AGO EVERYTHING WAS FINE", she screamed into the paramedic's jacket, her fists pounding his body. She was distraught. Everything was her fault. She knew this wasn't safe. She had that feeling, and she's always trusted her gut feeling before. Santana died because of her, she was certain.

At the hospital, it was officially confirmed that Santana was gone – to Rachel and Santana's mom who were in the waiting room with a doctor.  
"She lost a lot of blood and nothing could be done. I'm sorry."  
The words kept playing in her head as she and Mrs Lopez hugged and mourned together. She finally let go and wiped Rachel's tear-stained face. Gripping her shoulders, she said "She loved you, you know that. She talked about you all of the time." She stopped for a second to hold herself together and continued in a quiet voice.  
"Rachel, when Santana had cancer she was so certain she was going. And she wrote you a letter for me to give to you then if it ever happened, and I brought it with me." she managed to get out – and then handed her an envelope. Rachel took the envelope shakingly, and she remembered walking in on Santana one day in the hospital with a pen and paper, and how quickly she disposed of them without thinking that Rachel had noticed her. It made her cry even more. Her head hurt from the crying and she was pretty much all cried out. Santana's mom gave a small smile and kissed Rachel's forehead, then drove her home in silence.  
She remembered Santana sneaking a kiss with her one time in the backseat when her mom insisted on driving them to school and didn't know they were dating. She remembered Santana driving them both in her moms car to a little quiet cottage for the weekend, blasting the radio and singing along to cheesy songs. She remembered hours ago being in the car with Santana listening to her talk about how good the night will be. And she just closed her eyes in agony. Her heart was slowly breaking.

Later that night, when she was alone in her room and in her bed, Rachel took out the envelope.  
"The love of my life" was written on the front – she called her that a lot - it was the same for her - and it only made Rachel hurt even more.  
She opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.  
My dearest Rachel Barbra Berry (I know you'd want your full name written on this so I had to)  
Already this sounds like some old-fashioned crap but I thought it was needed because you are special to me, and you are my Rachel.  
If you're reading this, you know I'm gone. You're probably crying right now and I don't want that. I know you're probably reading this in your bed, too. And I don't want you crying yourself to sleep! It was my time to go. And I know you said it's not, I remember the conversation – it is my time. Otherwise you wouldn't be holding this letter. I wish I was with you to hold you, and to tell you that everything is going to be fine. Because it is, it will be Rachel. You're going to meet someone new and you will fall in love all over again. And you'll have a family and your life will be great. I know you'll miss me but I'll always be here, and in your heart. You were the best thing in my life, you supported me through this, heck. That's a lot.  
I remember asking you "What are you going to do when I die?" and you dodged that question. But I'm going to tell you. You're going to get on with your life. Don't cry over me, remember our happy times together, because they were the best in my life. You can do whatever you want, be a dancer, be a singer – whatever! Just know that I'll always be proud of you and that I will always look out for you.  
You deserve the best, Rachel Berry.  
I love you.  
Rachel wiped her tears and folded the letter back into the envelope. Putting it into the drawer, she switched off her lamp and got under the covers.  
"And I don't want you to cry yourself to sleep!"  
She smiled.  
"Just this one time, Santana", she managed to whisper as she did indeed, cry herself to sleep.


End file.
